A Moment in Time
by Pantz
Summary: She’ll grow up, grow old, and he’ll be nothing more than a memory of a person she once admired, a person she could have fallen in love with if given half a chance.


_**Disclaimer: Everything from HP belongs to JK Rowling**_

_A/N: Yeah so I got bored and decided to write this. It kinda sux but read it anyway and tell how horrible my writing has become lol! I hope guys cry because it's supposed to be sad and I don't know if it is enough. Ah, well READ AND REVIEW!_

_**A Moment in Time**_

Music flows throughout the common as she sits in the firelight playing with her lute. It's a pastime she took up around her third year. A small activity she began to take her mind off the world because she sometimes feels as though she's going to die, going to drown in this sea of melancholy she calls life.

It's the beauty, the innocence she radiates that he loves the most. It's that light laughter he's always hearing, the joking no person could tire of. He remembers when she was young, that little girl with stars in her eyes who couldn't form even the simplest of sentences in his presence. He remembers when she wasn't this dazzling, charismatic girl she became and sometimes he wishes she remained awestruck. He sometimes wishes she wasn't so enthralling because it would have made everything so much simpler.

He watches her from the shadows as he listens to her music. She always plays long, sad songs that make a person need to cry. Long sad songs that reflect the pain of this world being ravished by war and torn apart by hate. Songs that travel deep into his heart, enter into his soul making him remember why exactly he had to leave her in the first place. Songs that are soothing, soothing through the pain he feels on the inside because he gets to watch her, gets to spend another minute, another hour in her presence. And even though it isn't long, even though in days he's leaving and may never return, it's another minute, another hour that he gets to be with her, to watch her and wonder what it would be like if he wasn't Harry Potter, if he wasn't The Boy Who Lived.

He closes his eyes and relishes in her music because in another minute, another hour her beauty will be gone and he'll be left alone again with the burdens of a world he alone can vanquish. He's leaving, going to the end of the world to seek a victory he may never find. Going to the end of the world because this place chose him to be their savior. He's their hope, their symbol of a better life and it's painful for him because they no longer see him as a person, only as salvation.

Playing hero isn't what he once knew it to be. It's no longer climbing through trap doors or fighting fire breathing dragons. It's no longer the childish adventures Hermione and Ron followed him on, no longer an act of nobility and bravery because he saved yet another day. It's just there, a task he must complete, a destiny he wishes he never had to fulfill. It's not for the fame or the glory that he fights so hard. It's not even for this world that created a man out of a scrawny child. It's for the mere fact that this is how it is meant to be. That this is the life he was supposed to live, his destiny, and to him that seems reason enough to go out there and kill the villain of the story.

The music stops and she only gives him a quick pained glance as she walks swiftly passed him and heads up the stairs. He listens to her steps, listens to the echoes of her shoes until the last sound fades into nothingness and he is once again left with his thoughts, once again reminded of the loneliness forever creeping up his spine, forever showing him his fate. And his mind wanders to the near future when he and his two best friends will go on their last adventure, wanders to the minute that he leaves on that scarlet train and she isn't there bidding him farewell. Isn't there shedding a tear or pining for the hero because this is real life and he knows that she'll never be reduced to the helpless damsel. That she'll grow up, grow old, and he'll be nothing more than a memory of a person she once admired, a person she could have fallen in love with if given half a chance.

He sometimes wonders about death. Wonders about its inevitability because more than anything he feels death knocking at his door. He sees omens everywhere, sees the shadow of a big black dog, hears the eerie whisper of the underworld, and he wonders if he'll end up giving his life to this world the same way he gave his soul.

He wonders if she'll cry. He tries to imagine his funeral, tries to imagine a grieving widow crying because her one and only love is dead. But all he sees is her smile. All he sees is an innocent girl to ready to forget her troubles, to forget him, because the need to be carefree overwhelms her. All he hears is her laughter, a wild gay laughter that he knows will haunt him into the grave. A laughter that tells him his moment with her has passed and he'll never get it back.

The moment is gone he knows, gone because of this destiny that is forever tormenting him. He looks out the window, listens to platter of the rain and the booming thunder outside and tries to hate this placethat stole his life away from him. Tries to hate this place that took away everything that ever made him happy, but can't because his mind is drowning in magic and all the possibilities he thought of when he first learned he was a wizard. He can't hate this place because magic makes him believe in the impossible and he needs that belief now more than ever before.

He wonders if she ever thinks about him, if she ever wishes he wasn't Harry Potter or if she's already moved on and in love with her next victim. He wonders if she's staring into her mirror and brushing her scarlet hair as crystalline tears fall down her delicate face. He wonders if she cares about him still, wonders if she'll think about him when he's away. If she'll spend her nights looking at the stars and wishing on them that he'll return to her one day. He wonders if she had loved him and if they could have been happy together forever. And then he turns away from the window and the moment passes. _A moment is just a moment after all._

End

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